


The Dancing Queen

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [35]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Clubbing, Dancing, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Intrigued Sherlock, Matchmaker Sally, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sensual Molly, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock-centric, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While staking out a club on a case, Sherlock observes Molly dancing with exquisite grace and is quite entranced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dancing Queen

**Author's Note:**

> So yesterday there was what seemed to be a ton of wank directed at people who were fans of the Sherlolly ship and Molly Hooper in general on Tumblr, so I put out a post saying I'd offer up fic to anyone who wanted it for Sherlolly fic or Molly-centric shippy or friendship fic, and I got quite a few responses. I ended up falling asleep because I'd overexerted myself during the day, but I got two written late in the evening that I was able to post this morning, and the first of which was for **rubyred7531** who asked " _How about a Sherlolly where Sherlock discovers an unknown facet to Molly – queen of the club dancefloor! Because I get so tired of reading how Sherlock is the better dancer and Molly is so clumsy._ " I had quite a bit of fun with this one, I really did. Hope you enjoy!

“I’m OK, thank you. Just please, stop talking to me.” He watched as the woman gave him a slight scowl and melted back into the throng of people at the nightclub. He absolutely detested being here, to be quite honest. If it hadn’t been for the suspect’s proclivity to frequent this particular club every blasted Friday night after a robbery, spending his ill-gotten gains as though there was no tomorrow, he would not be anywhere in the vicinity of the pounding music or crush of people. He would much rather be at home than be here, but Lestrade had said that the Yard was understaffed and if he wanted to ensure the suspect was caught he had to pull his weight.

Damn him.

He leaned against the railing and stared down at the dance floor as another insipid song came on. He scanned the crowd, his eyes barely glancing at the crowd, and it took a moment to register the woman with the small crowd of men around her. It wasn’t...it _couldn’t_ be. There, amongst a crowd of five...no, six men now… was Molly, wearing a strapless shimmery teal dress that appeared to wrap around her, with a loose skirt that went down nearly to her knees. It was nicer than nearly anything else he had seen her in in all the years he had known her. Her hair was down loose around her shoulders, pulled back at the sides and secured with a jeweled clip.

And she was moving with a grace that had him entranced.

Every once in a while she would pull a partner closer, but most times she would dance on her own, lost to the rhythm of the music, the men there merely surrounding her as she was swaying sensuously on her own. He knew he should be paying attention to his surroundings to see if the suspect was there, if he was making a move, but he was captivated solely by her. He had the feeling it was different in an environment like at John and Mary’s wedding or a work social, though. Here at a club, there was a sense of anonymity. You could be anyone at a club, from what he understood, especially at a place like this with a crush of people. You could be yourself or you could adopt a persona and play a part. And it seemed, here, among the what seemed like nine hundred people filling the space and gyrating and pressing and pushing in time to the beat, Molly was queen among them.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and wrenched his attention away to see Donovan standing there, a slight smirk on her face. “So you saw her,” she said, moving around to get next to him.

He nodded and then turned back to look. “Yes,” he said. “She comes here often?”

“Every weekend since the engagement ended,” she said, leaning against the railing as well. “She wanted to prove she was enticing to someone. Took her a while to work up the nerve to go out on the floor. Now she owns it.” Sally had a small smile on her face. “She imagines she’s dancing with you, you know.”

His eyes widened and he looked at her sharply. “What?”

Sally nodded. “Yup. Oh, she still fancies you something fierce. It wasn’t the _main_ reason her engagement ended. That was because Tom was an arse. But it didn’t help.” She gestured to the floor. “We got the suspect. If I were you, I’d go down there and make her fantasy come true. Just a piece of friendly advice.” She gave him a small grin and then pulled away from the railing and melted into the crowd again.

He looked back at Molly, watching her sway. She imagined dancing with him? He could dance, but not like her. Compared to her he’d probably have two left feet down there. He’d look like a clod. But if that was what she wanted, perhaps he could indulge her. He pushed himself away from the railing and began to make his way to the lower level, and soon he was around the throng of admirers of Molly. He went behind her and tapped her shoulder. She spun around, surprised, and looked at her. “Oh!” she said, her eyes wide.

“Care for a dance?” he asked.

“I...uh...yes,” she said, nodding. Sherlock looked at the assorted men nearby and they began to slowly disperse. “Do you know how to dance to this music?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“You just stay nice and close,” she said, stepping close to him, nearly pressing her body against his. After a moment he let his hands settle at her waist, as he had seen others doing. She began to sway in time to the music and he did the same, using his grip to keep her close. She looked up at him, a rather sensual smile on her face, and he was overcome with the urge to kiss her. It came from nowhere, but she seemed to have the same one, stopping the dance and leaning up and pressing her lips to his. At that moment all coherent thought left him and all he could think about was that the dancing queen had chosen him to be her consort, and perhaps there was something to this type of dancing after all.


End file.
